Out Of The Red
by ISmokeCigars
Summary: Another Sunday morning for Finn and Puck.
1. Preview

__This is my first story. I'm not sure if I'm going to go anywhere with it, but I wanted to try my hand at writing anyway. I have too many ship feelings. Heh. I appreciate any and all constructive criticism. Please, let me know what I'm doing wrong or how I might improve.

I don't own any lyrics I reference. Don't own the characters. You know the deal.

This is just a short preview of a story I'm trying to work on.

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><p><em>Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.<em>

"If everything could ever feel this real forever, if anything could ever be this good again..."

It got louder.

"THE ONLY THING I'LL EVER ASK OF YOU, YOU'VE GOT TO PROMISE NOT TO STOP WHEN I SAY-"

Finn grabbed the offending object and hit talk.

"'lo?"

"Hey loser, get dressed. I'm waiting outside. I have breakfast."

_click_

Finn rubbed his eyes. He groaned and sat up, setting his phone back on the nightstand. No sleeping in this Sunday. Not that he didn't enjoy accompanying his boyfriend on his shooting trips, but the weekends are kind of made for sleep, right?

Puck always informed him that he had brought breakfast. Like some kind of incentive, he guessed. As if he wouldn't come otherwise. It was always the same thing. Breakfast sandwiches and donuts. Puck insisted the donuts went well with the beer he always brought. The sandwiches were special. Puck made them himself, and put a lot of work and love into them. In the beginning he told Finn that his mom made him bring the food, but over the years Finn caught on that Mrs. Puckerman didn't wake up before 8am on the weekends.

He squinted at the clock. It was... 4:48am.

Too early.

Puck didn't sleep much. But if Finn didn't start getting some sleep himself, Puck wasn't going to get laid much.

He pulled on some jeans and buttoned up a flannel shirt. He found his shoes and brushed his teeth. He grabbed his vest and beanie before tip-toeing out.

Fuck it was cold. He slid into the passenger seat of Puck's truck and shut the door. A grunt that was supposed to be a hello came out as he burrowed into his vest, shivering.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Puck teased lightly as he turned up the heat. He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Finn's head before shifting gears and pulling out of the driveway.


	2. FULL STORY

Okay guys. Here's the full thing. I got stuck a while. I think I changed some of the beginning, too. Once again, constructive criticism is welcomed. Please nitpick. And I apologize. This was going to be fluff. It did not turn out that way.

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><p><em>Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.<em>

"_If everything could ever feel this real forever, if anything could ever be this good again..."_

It got louder.

"_THE ONLY THING I'LL EVER ASK OF YOU, YOU'VE GOT TO PROMISE NOT TO STOP WHEN I SAY-"_

Finn grabbed the offending object and hit talk.

"'lo?"

"Hey loser, get dressed. I'm waiting outside. I have breakfast."

click

Finn rubbed his eyes. He groaned and sat up, setting his phone back on the night stand. No sleeping in this Sunday. Not that he didn't enjoy accompanying his boyfriend on his shooting trips, but the weekends are kind of made for sleep, right?

Puck always informed him that he had brought breakfast. As if he wouldn't come along otherwise. It was always the same thing. Breakfast sandwiches and donuts. Puck insisted the donuts went well with the beer he always brought. The sandwiches were special. Puck made them himself, and put a lot of work and love into them. In the beginning he told Finn that his mom made him bring the food, but over the years Finn caught on that Mrs. Puckerman didn't wake up before 8am on the weekends.

He couldn't even see any light outside.

He squinted at the clock. It was... 4:48am.

Too early.

Puck didn't sleep much. But if Finn didn't start getting some sleep himself, Puck wasn't going to get laid much.

He pulled on some jeans and a sweater. He found his shoes and brushed his teeth. He grabbed his vest and beanie before tip-toeing out.

Fuck it was cold. Finn crunched through the leaves in his yard as he made his way towards Puck's truck. He slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. A grunt that was supposed to be a hello came out as he burrowed into his vest, shivering.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Puck tried to come off as teasing, but his tone mostly fell flat. He reached over and turned up the heat. He hesitated for a minute before leaning over and planting a quick kiss on Finn's head. He shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway.

Finn woke to the sound of Puck's voice.

"-yeah, and also a large eggnog latte. Yeah, whipped cream. Thanks."

He blinked a few times and sat up more as they rolled up to the next window. Puck noticed, and smiled at him before counting out the money to hand to the woman at the window. Seconds later Finn was handed a drink.

"Thanks." He mumbled, before taking a sip of the latte.

Puck smirked. "Well it's not as if you'll wake up without it, right? And girly as it is, I know you love that seasonal crap."

The farther out of town, the bumpier the roads. The fog was heavy, making it hard to see. The trees that were in his line of vision were a blur of red, yellow, and orange. Puck always liked to drive to a spot about an hour out of town. No one would bug him out here. You could barely get cell reception even if you wanted to.

Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time. Almost 6:30. He was feeling mostly awake now. His latte was sitting finished in the cup holder.

The red color of the coffee cup reminded him of last night.

"_Fuck OFF! You're not my fucking dad, neither is anyone else at this fucking party, or anywhere, so stop trying to act like it!"_

_Puck stormed out into the yard, whiskey in hand._

"_I'm not trying to act like anything okay? Can you please calm down? I don't want the neighbors to call the police. We can't do that to Mike, man. It's not cool."_

_Finn tried to shut the door behind him but Blaine had decided to make an appearance. _

"_Puck, I think you're being quite disrespectful to Mike and the rest of us by causing a scene like this. We could all get in trouble if cops were called. We both know you don't want that." Blaine said as he walked down the steps off the porch._

_Puck marched straight up to where Blaine was standing, seething. Finn knew this wasn't going to end well, but trying to keep up on shots with his boyfriend was taking a toll on his stomach. Puck could out-drink anyone. He tried to steady himself on the porch railing. "Blaine, I don't think-"_

"_You have no fucking clue what I want, you prep school dweeb. Don't think for a second that you do. Maybe I want the cops to get called. Maybe I want to spend the night in jail. Maybe-"_

_Blaine interrupted him with a sharp tone. "Maybe you've just had way too much to drink."_

_Finn blinked, and Blaine was on the ground holding his nose. Shit. Finn pushed himself off the railing, stumbled down the steps, and knelt next to Blaine. The boy looked at him, one eye shut and blood seeping between his fingers where he was holding his nose. Puck really got him. He grabbed Blaine's less bloody hand and pulled him up, walking him back to the door. He opened it and called Kurt's name, getting Blaine shuffled inside and in the hands of his step brother before grabbing his jacket off the hook and shutting the door behind him. He turned around and walked off the porch one more time (steps were getting tricky) and walked to the sidewalk, looking down the street to figure out where Puck went off to. He turned to his right and saw a familiar shape turning around the corner two blocks away. _

_Finn got to the corner and turned down the street Puck had. He was trying to walk fast, but he was starting to feel queasy, and oh, no. Shit. He bent over and hurled into someone's bushes... Twice. And... Okay, not a third time. Thankfully. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and continued down the road._

_There weren't really any lights on this street, but he could see some up ahead. He squinted. Oh. Of course. Puck had headed for the park._

_The park wasn't much brighter than the surrounding streets, arguably darker with the trees blocking the light from the street lamps, but he could spot Puck sitting on one of the swings. He made his way over and sat down in the swing next to him, facing the opposite direction._

"_You'resuchafuckingpuppydog." Puck muttered._

"_What?"_

_Puck turned to look at him. He looked like he'd been crying._

"_That selfish prick." The words bubbled up from his throat like he was going to start crying again. Finn waited._

"_He'd send cards, you know. To Sarah... He'd send 'em every year on her birthday. And I knew he was a piece of shit, but she wasn't there for that, you know? She didn't know him. She still wanted to. And he jus-" He choked up, trying hard not to cry._

"_Like I don't give a FUCK, you know? He was dead to me anyway, but-" The waterworks were going now. Finn grabbed Puck's hand. "-he wasn't to her. And how the FUCK could anyone do that to their fucking kid, man? How..." He shook his head and took a swing of whiskey before throwing the bottle at the nearest tree._

_Finn scrunched his eyebrows together and looked at Puck. He couldn't mean..._

"_They found him dead. Overdosed. Fucking 'rock-n-roll' lifestyle 'til the end." Puck squeezed his hand hard, like he just noticed he was still holding onto it._

_Finn stood up, bringing Puck up with him. He pulled him into a hug, squeezing as tightly as he could as Puck cried silently into his shoulder. Fuck. He knew Puck had already written his father off as gone, but Puck was so protective of his younger sister... And she would be devastated. _

_Puck peeled himself away from Finn, swearing and wiping at his eyes. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit up, sucking it down hard. He blew out some smoke and sighed. They walked to the other side of the playground and sat down on some of the play equipment while Puck finished a couple more cigarettes in silence. _

_Finn stood up and fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was only a bit past midnight, but Puck probably wasn't welcome back to the party at this point. _

_"You wanna head home?"_

_Puck nodded. They held hands the entire way home._

_Finn remembered them both falling asleep in his bed. Or maybe it was just him who fell asleep. He recalled that Puck kept whispering his name to check if he was awake or not._

_"Finn... Finn?"_

"Finn!"

They were parked out in a small field. Not their usual spot, but one a bit farther out that they went to sometimes. Puck was staring a hole in his head through the open passenger window.

"Where are you at, dude? I need help getting the targets set up." Puck patted the car door and walked around to the back. Targets were whatever cans or bottles Puck hadn't obliterated last time.

Finn stepped out of the truck and walked around back. Puck put a cover on in the winter, but whether or not Finn could see it didn't mean he didn't bump his head on it almost every single time he reached to grab the cans.

"Just how many times were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Puck reached in beside him and grabbed his rifle.

At that Finn chuckled. He did remember having a not so great relationship with the coffee table as a toddler.

Finn carried an armful of cans over to the fence they were stacking them on. Puck liked to get started in the morning while it was still a bit foggy. Later on the wind would clear away the fog, and sometimes it could clear away some of the cans, too.

When Finn turned around Puck was sitting in the bed of the truck, loading his rifle. Finn sat down beside him on the tailgate. He understood why they were here.

"So... Sarah doesn't know?"

"Mom told me first." Puck chewed his lip for a moment. "I think so I could be there for Sarah when we told her."

Finn nodded. Puck came out here to shoot whenever he was upset or getting ready to do something important. This was the normal process.

Puck scooted to the edge of the tailgate and stood up. He walked several paces and let out a deep breath before he started aiming and shooting. There was something relaxing about just watching Noah shoot. The control. The precision. The pacing. The way every time he hit a target Finn could see his shoulders relax just a bit. For just a moment. Finn didn't usually decline Noah's offer to shoot because he was less experienced, but rather because he preferred watching. Out here, watching Noah shoot, he could get lost in thought without anyone making fun of the look on his face.

He knew he'd have to wait for the drive home to get an apology from Noah for punching Blaine. He also knew Puck would make him hold his hand the entire drive. He was glad to. He knew that it'd be hard, today. Hard for a while. There was no getting around it. Finn would hold his hand through all of it, but he knew this was strictly Puckerman family business. When they got back into town Noah would drop Finn off at his house again. Same place he picked him up. And Finn would wait to see Noah at school the next day. And he would do anything he could to make things easier.

The sun was really starting to shine through the clouds now. The fog was starting to roll away. The sound of yet another gunshot rang through the air.


End file.
